Page 150 of Thorns of Death

“You won’t,” I rasped.

“Isla is strong. She’s always been a survivor ever since—” Illias’s voice cracked and he swallowed hard. “Our priority is to get her to safety.”

Taking a deep breath, Enrico nodded and his fingers brushed softly against her cheek. He handled her with a gentleness that I had never thought him capable of.

“Let’s go,” he said. Illias and I nodded and quickly started our way out of there.

“I’ll go ahead and ensure the coast is clear,” Illias said, pulling out the gun from his holster. “Manuel, you take his back.”

“I got him.”

With Enrico and Isla between us, we made our way out of the warehouse. It wasn’t until we climbed in the helicopter and were lifted into the air that we all released a heavy breath. Enrico sat in the back seat with Isla on his lap. He kept the jacket protectively around her. Illias and I sat opposite him.

My eyes flicked to my nephew who was more like a brother to me, seeing him push his wife’s hair off her forehead with trembling fingers.

“She’s going to be okay,” Illias said through my headset, glancing at his sister, his fists clenching by his side.

I hoped he was right.

She kept Enrico sane. She gave him a reason to carry on.

FIFTY-FOUR

ENRICO

It had been a whole day. I’d brought the hospital to my home; I didn’t trust anyone to watch over her. I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.

My knees were weak, my soul even weaker. Everything about the past few days had me reeling, giving me déjà vu of my mother’s death. Of when she’d taken her last breath.

I refused to let my wife take her last breath. Not before I took my own.

Anger suffocated me—at the traitor, at destiny… at the world. But I shoved it somewhere deep. I couldn’t let myself spiral out of control. I needed to be here for Isla. I needed to take care of her.

The doctor indicated a mild concussion. He’d run a myriad of scans to ensure she didn’t have any internal bleeding. She was clear, but her body was battered. Her flesh was riddled with cuts, all of which had to be scrubbed clean to ensure no infection formed. I didn’t know how she pulled through, but she did. Illias was right. My wife was fucking strong.

A pained whimper sounded, and I jumped up from my chair and closed the small distance between us. I cradled her in my arms, probably smothering her, but I couldn’t help it. I needed to comfort her as much as I needed her comfort. And her breathing, her chest rising against mine, was the only thing that mattered.

Her body spasmed, fresh blood dribbling down the corner of her lip from where she’d bitten down hard to stifle her screams. I’d seen the videos, and they turned my blood to ice. A weaker man might have broken. But not my Isla. She refused to give them her voice. Her screams. It was probably why they hadn’t moved to the next step of torture. Donatella had a fucking fascination with screams. She was determined to get a rise out of my wife, but she didn’t know Isla the way I did.

“It’s okay,piccolina,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I’m here. Just hang on to me.”

It seemed to work when I talked to her. So I kept whispering plans for our future. For our family. For travels we’d do together. Anything and fucking everything. I was a goddamn sap.

The door opened with a soft rustle behind me, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was either Illias or Kian. Manuel couldn’t stomach seeing Isla, nor me, like this. Enzo and Amadeo only came when they knew no one would be here but me.

“How is she?” Kian broke the silence that stretched next to thebeep, beep, beeping of the machine. The doctor kept trying to convince me Isla’s heart was strong. That she would make it.

“No change.” The voice wasn’t my own. Fuck, my body and thoughts weren’t my own. It was as if they drifted, right along with Isla somewhere in this universe, refusing to wake up.

“You should take a shower.” Illias spoke. “When she wakes up, she’ll need your strength.”

“Fuck off, Konstantin.” If he thought I’d leave her even for a minute, he was crazy.

His hand came up to my shoulder, squeezing. “Trust me, Marchetti. She’ll not want to see you like this. The bathroom is right there. Take a quick shower. Fuck, leave the door open if you must. Kian and I will watch over her.”

“She won’t be moved,” Kian said, his voice somber. “I give you my word. And if she stirs, we’ll fetch you.”

That was what finally got me moving. When I found my reflection in the mirror, I realized why they insisted on a shower. Blood still stained my clothes. My stubble was turning into a full beard.